The Dance
by athingsublime
Summary: "I just want you to be happy Abby..."


Title: The Dance   
Author: Noa   
Category: Luka/Abby, Angst   
Disclaimer: Not mine, okay? If they were mine, I wouldn't write those fanfics, and I would most certainly not write that god-awful scene at the end of Letdown. Capice?   
Thanks/Dedications: To my dear BFW, **Adeline**, for being so lovely and beta-ing it. And for my dear **Katie**, for analyzing Luby with me and as a result - inspiring me. And last but not least, lovely ISP that managed to give me a whole weekend internet-less, probably the only reason I finished this fanfic. ;)  
Note: The title sucks, I know. I was listening to Garth Brooks' The Dance as I was finishing writing the fanfic, and used it since it has some Luby-vibes to it. [Lyrics - http://www.songmeanings.net/showsong.php?id=1981]  
Also, some of the fanfic is in run-on sentences on purpose. Suck it up. 

Summary: "I just want you to be happy, Abby..."   
Timeline: 2-3 weeks after 'Lockdown'. 

  
+ + + 

  
Put it in your mouth, inhale deeply. Let the smoke fill you, let the nicotine relax your brain, try to forget everything for a while. Nothing matters when you stand there, using your break for the same thing you always do - chain smoking. How many cigarettes do you think you can finish in your 15 minutes? You should really check that sometime, maybe you could break a world record. Though there are probably no written records, but it doesn't matter, nothing matters now. 

He's walking towards you, and now you wish you could fly, or just disappear. Wouldn't it all be easier if you could fly away from all that bothers you in life? Life would be easy then, so easy that it might even be boring, but that doesn't matter to you, nothing matters now. 

"Hey," he says quietly, and he's not even looking at you, though right now you wish he would. You want to see what his eyes look like now. You want to see if they are dark now, and just how much. Because sometimes they are brown and sometimes they are black, and it all depends on how he feels and you want to know how feels right now. 

You don't even know what to say. It's not how you wanted him to find out about the recent changes in your life, he deserves to find_out from your mouth, not from the things he heard. But at that time you didn't care, and now that you do, it's too late, just too late. 

"I'm sorry that..." you start, but your confidence weakens too quickly to complete the sentence. What do you tell him? That you're sorry you are dating the other one? That you are sorry you never gave him another chance? "That I didn't tell you." You finally finish. You can feel his eyes on you, burning holes in your face, but you don't dare to look at him. Suddenly, you're too scared to see his face; you don't want to see the hurt there, the hurt you know you will find there. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see him shrugging his shoulders. "You don't owe me anything." He pauses, and the both of you know what he is about to say - "It's been over a year, I couldn't expect you to stay single... I haven't." 

You shake your head, wondering if he can read your mind like you can almost always read his. "You didn't think it would be him, did you? You said it that night, but you... You didn't think you were right." 

"Was I?" he asks, and you sense the hurt in his voice. Nothing seems to come out right for you anymore, does it? "Did you want it, even then?" 

"I'm not even sure if that's what I want now," you reveal shyly, "How do I know what I wanted a year ago?" 

And he lets it slide. Because that's what people do - They prefer switching subjects instead of working things out. But you always do that, always, and so you tell yourself you can't judge him... But you still do. "He makes you happy?" he asks, and for the first time since he approached you, your eyes meet. It doesn't last long, because it's too hard for you to answer his question while looking at him, the look in his eyes hurts you inside. 

"He tries." You say, but before you're done you know that it's not enough. "He tries and I try to let him, but sometimes I wonder if you were right, if I really can't be happy. I figured if I wait long enough, if I let him try long enough, then maybe... Maybe I will be." 

He's still looking at you, and the imaginary holes he makes in your cheeks are getting deeper and deeper as time passes. He's listening to you intensely, taking each word on its own until the words form sentences inside his head, into a paragraph, and he grasps the meaning. He starts to speak; his voice lower than usual at first, but slowly it goes back to normal, "I-I hope it works out for you two." 

A sarcastic smile appears on your face, one you never meant to give him, and your voice follows it. "No, you don't." 

He shakes his head, looking for words he had lost long ago. "I'm happy for you, Abby." 

"No, you're not." You say, and that's the last thing you remember happening before you walk away. From him, from his heart, from the love which until now, you hadn't even known was ever there. In your head you're apologizing for the choices you made, choices you now know were wrong. In your head you tell him what you still feel, things he never knew, things he will never know. But it's a lost battle now, you know. You tried and it didn't work, and that's all that matters right now, that it's gone and that the both of you moved on and that you should be happy, happy because Carter tries to make you happy and he's being so great and you're just being unfair to him and... And you don't know what you're still doing with him when the most important thing is missing, a thing you know you could never find with Carter, no matter how much the both of you try. 

Carter is now approaching you. He is just coming in for work, saw you on his way in, and is walking towards you to say hello and good morning, and ask how are you because he's worried, because you have been out of it lately and he doesn't know why. You smile, because it is what he expects you to do. You kiss him, because that's what he and the rest of the world expects you to do. And you say you're feeling great and nothing is wrong, and it must be just the stormy weather that is giving you the funk. And he believes you, because it's easier. You wonder if he knows that sometimes a stormy weather wears the mask of a tall, dark, handsome and mysterious man that refuses to leave your mind and your heart. 

You wonder. 


End file.
